


Closer

by Demidevl



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demidevl/pseuds/Demidevl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all it takes is a push, and what starts out as a mistake may be the best move you ever made. In which Sniper loses control and Scout finally gets laid. Fem!SniperxFem!Scout</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Old work that I'm finally posting... without actually looking at it after a year. Huh. Also my first smut and my first fanfic. This was written as a challenge just to see if I could stop blushing long enough to do it.

Sniper is sick of dancing around this thing between them. Ever flighty, the scout’s interactions with her are maddening - the fleeting warmth of a hand on her back that lingers just long enough to be more than friendly. The way she stretches her lithe body in a break in battle, bat behind her head, firm breasts straining against the fabric and always in clear sight of Sniper’s scope. And immediately after these actions it’s like it never happened. She’s off running in the midst of battle again. All business and trailing blood from her dented bat behind her like a banner. Even in the base. One moment a tease, then nothing, like she’s actually listening to Soldier’s inane anecdote at dinner and her fingers weren’t just absentmindedly tracing circles on Sniper’s leg underneath the table. This is how the Scout plays, never a direct confrontation, ever darting in and out of the action, making a hit and running only to reappear and bash your skull in from a completely unexpected direction. And each small action is grating on the sniper’s admittedly stellar self control. It’s enough to send her fleeing to the safety of her van to valiantly ignore the heat pooling in her groin or, with more and more alarming frequency, to wallow in self disgust as she brings herself to release picturing that round and impertinent face. 

She’s starting to think the girl doesn’t even know what she’s doing to her with her casual physicality and her constant presence. She has to be the only one on base, if Spy’s veiled comments, coupled with Medic’s wry but understanding looks over her glasses, are any indication. Christ, even the Heavy seems to notice the tension and Sniper always thought nothing interested the large woman aside from her guns and the pretty little medic. Sniper is torn between being grateful for the Scout’s obliviousness and wanting to put one right between her eyes. Ultimately however, the Scout’s unawareness allows her to do what she does best, observe without being seen and so far it’s been enough - if she has guilty sessions back at the van almost every night now, well, it’s still better than scaring the scout away forever. She prefers the status quo of this strange friendship and the fleeting closeness it brings to the uncertainty of the future should she take action. It’s not her style anyway. She’s content to watch and wait on the battlefield behind the relative safety of her scope (dirty spies be damned). And so, she takes what she can get: every stolen moment admiring the scout’s sleek form in battle, small hands pounding her back after a victory, the idle touches that are just part of the Scout’s unconsciously physical nature. It’s why she’s currently seated on the Scout’s bunk under the guise of checking over her rifle. In reality she’s following the scout’s movements about the room, her eyes carefully concealed by the tint of her glasses and the shadow of her hat.

The base is almost silent as the dusk envelopes the fort, with few daring to disturb Solly’s strict lights out policy; even the demo’s booming laughter and tromping steps have faded away for the night. Despite the relative quiet, most of the base is still quietly awake and avoiding the soldier’s random hallway patrols. The sniper makes it a policy to know all her teammates’ routines. She knows that the engineer is still nestled in the bowels of the base, tinkering with her beloved machines and humming softly amid the clangs and whirs of gears. A few rooms down from the workroom is the almost empty Medbay, where Medic is just settling her doves down in their roosts for the night. She coos to them individually while Heavy observes quietly, surprisingly unobtrusively for such a large woman. Upstairs, Sniper can hear her teammates go about their nightly routines. Soldier’s heels click briskly along the same well-worn patrol paths as every night. An occasional guffaw echoes down the hall from where Demo and Pyro are holed up in Demo’s room playing cards, but is quickly cut off at the urgent approach of Soldier’s footsteps. Spy is silent as always, her door wedged firmly shut against the life of the base. Sniper’s own silent presence in the scout’s quarters is habitual, although usually she is safely in her van well before Soldier starts her restless prowling. 

As usual, the one person engaged in actively breaking the peaceful silence is the team’s spastic loud-mouthed scout. For the most part Sniper isn’t actively listening, the words just floating over and around her with a comforting familiarity. This has become their routine, Scout chattering on and on about anything and everything that flits through her mind while the sniper sits and fiddles with whatever piece of equipment she’s got on her hands. Occasionally she makes vague noises of acknowledgement. Mostly she is silent. Scout never needs much encouragement to speak. Originally the sniper had leant an ear out of pity for their youngest teammate, and once acknowledged the scout had latched on to her as her conversational partner - if you could call being talked at instead of talked to a conversation. If there was one thing Scout was good at it was running her mouth, but then Sniper has always been a good listener. She hides her pleasure at being the only teammate actively sought out for conversation underneath her bored expression. 

Scout is always revved up more after a battle and tonight is no exception, she’s spitting like Engineer’s cat getting a flea bath.

“-unfreakin’ believable, dat shapeshiftin’ rat. Who does she think she is, messin’ round wit my pa? Ha, I showed her today. Beat her friggin’ brains in, betcha respawn can’t even piece her ugly mug back togetha.”

“Hmm?” Sniper gives up on the pretense of cleaning her rifle and sets it carefully to the side. It’s much more interesting to watch the scout pace the room, gangly arms windmilling and her wildly animated face shifting rapidly from one expression to another in her agitation. 

Scout doesn’t seem surprised that Sniper wasn’t listening and just snorts disdainfully. “Dat damn spy. Thinks she can say things ‘bout my da. Can’t freakin’ believe Da puts up with her smug face.”

Sniper pushes herself slowly to her feet and joins Scout across the room, where she’s standing in front of the pile of worn crates that just barely passes for a dresser. She can see Scout’s scrunched up face in the streaky and chipped mirror propped precariously against the wall. She’s running a brush through her short blonde hair with rough jerks that would have Sniper wincing if she didn’t know Scout had just lost her entire front row of teeth in a confrontation with an enemy scout that morning, and then spent the rest of the battle seeking revenge while choking on her own blood. Only after the fact had she sought out Medic for her medigun and a shrill lecture, and she had not so much sought the medic out as Heavy had found her and hauled her kicking and spitting up blood back to Medic. 

“Puts up with yers, don’t he?” 

The brush hits the top of the shoddy dresser with a bang. “Real cute, Snipes,” the scout growls, “Seriously tho, what’s he need a scummy gal like dat for?”   
“Look, mate, ev’rybody gets lonely sometimes, suppose your da just needs someone to hold. Or have a naughty with, Christ.” At the horrified look on Scout’s face the sniper sighs “A body got needs, ya mug.” 

“Not me. Dat’s so lame. Da don’t need no gal, I don’t so why should he.” Her face shifts into an expression of confusion. “Guy,” she pauses. “Wait-“

The sniper is too exasperated to even find the scrunching of her upturned nose adorable enough to stop her from raising her voice. “Pig’s arse, ya whacker, I don’t even,” She rubs her forehead tiredly and trails off. “Roight, loik you’d know wut to do with one if ya had ‘em. Either of ‘em.” she mutters.

“Ey, what ya trying to say, bushwoman? All da guys want a piece a dis.”

Sniper snorts. “Sure.”

“Dey do. You ask any of ‘em. I’m da best around.” 

“A joey like you? You bein’ fair dinkum here or are ya just spouting off again? ”

It’s fascinating watching the Scout’s angry flush spread across her face and up to her ears. She jerks a few steps backwards, away from the sniper, like she’s been hit full on with a pyro’s compression blast.

“Whatcha trying ta say dere, Snipes?” 

“You ever have a naughty?” The scout flushes even darker and she opens her mouth to retort, but the sniper cuts her off harshly. “Ya even pashed a bloke? Christ, bet you don’t right know how, little gremlin like yerself.” 

The Scout bristles like an angry cat. “’course I have, I‘m not a frickin’ baby.”

“Then prove it, ya damn ankle-biter,” She steps back, never taking her eyes off the wide-eyed scout, and kicks the semi-open door closed with a bang. The scout jumps, fidgets nervously. The click of the lock engaging is as loud as a gunshot. She flicks the light off, almost casually, eyes never leaving the Scout’s even as darkness envelops the room. Scout is outlined in silver, a dark shadow framed by the open window. Sniper’s eyes adjust quickly to the dark, quicker than the befuddled scout’s. Her eyes never leave the scout’s as she slinks away from the door and closes the distance between them with deliberate, sure strides.

For every long, slow stride the Sniper takes forward the Scout backpedals away two jerky steps until the backs of her knees hit the regulation cot with a rattle of rusty springs. The Scout jerks at the impact before freezing like a rabbit in the headlights of Sniper’s campervan, her only movements the almost unperceivable twitching of her limbs. The Sniper’s heels thudding on the wooden planks are the only sound in the room until she’s pressed up against the Scout, the Scout’s body straining backwards to avoid her but subconsciously arching into her body heat. Sniper slowly reaches up a hand to stroke the side of her face and she can feel the heat of Scout’s blush on her fingertips. 

Scout shivers.

All it takes is a light push to send her sprawling backwards onto the bunk and her head collides with the wall with a thump and a curse. It’s a testament to how frazzled Scout is that she isn’t immediately brained with the well-worn bat leaning oh so casually against the headboard. Sniper gives it a nudge with her foot absentmindedly (just in case, kid has a nasty swing) while the Scout is indignantly yelping her displeasure at the rough treatment and rubbing her head. It clatters to the wooden floorboards and rolls out of easy reach. Then, as the scout is coming back to her senses and her muscles tense to spring upright, the Sniper follows her down onto the mattress, which protests mightily at the extra weight on its rusted frame. Her thighs are trapping Scout’s between them and she grips the scout’s wrists tightly in her hands and pushes them down into the sheets, effectively pinning her. Even without her bat she’s a killer like the rest of them and Sniper’s not risking a punch to the face, although from the way the scout’s trembling she doubts she has the strength or the inclination to push her away, let alone try to knock her teeth out.

‘Virgin, like I reckon’d, or almost, least with the sheilas,’ she can’t help but scoff as the Scout goes rigid at the shift in position. Instead of the usual annoyance with the Scout’s bravado and brazen fibs she feels a rush of tenderness for the younger girl that makes her lean down until the scout’s smaller frame is flush against her. She presses her lips to her forehead gently until Scout is squirming uncomfortably at the show of affection. She swallows the laugh in her throat. The last thing she wants is to send the proud girl running, not when suddenly everything about this girl is precious, something to be filed away for the future. The future of dark nights stargazing on her camper roof alone when this war is over and Scout has moved on from a need-driven encounter with an almost-stranger twelve years her senior, settled down with, god-forbid, children just like her, and never thinking about the awkward lanky woman who lived in a campervan and always had dirt caked under her fingernails. But right now she has a warm body between her thighs that is vibrating with indecision and lust and a good hunter knows to never waste an opportunity. So guided by experience and the pale light of the moon she moves with surprising agility for her frame and presses her lips against the girl’s underneath her.

Scout tastes like dust and bubblegum. She’s tense and not participating in the press of lips but she’s not resisting and Sniper releases the scout’s wrists so she can run her hands across her body in soothing strokes. Sniper licks gently at the scout’s mouth, the shell of her ear, and the scout’s hands are fluttering uncertainly on the bedsheets so she takes her right hand and kisses her palm before intertwining their fingers. Sniper’s other hand finds the edge of Scout’s shirt and slips underneath it. Scout’s breath is puffing against her cheek as she laps her tongue behind her ear and down. Sniper’s hand creeps up her belly until she encounters the round expanse of a breast and squeezes gently. This time when she leans in for a kiss Scout leans up to meet her. Her lips are still beneath the sniper’s, but her body is arching against her, closing the distance. Hesitant hands settle on her hips. It’s enough permission for Sniper, whose heart is thudding insistently in her chest, urging her on to taketaketake. 

Her callused hands light upon Scout’s smooth stomach. She slides the material up to expose a pinstriped Red Sox sports bra and has to smother a grin. Apparently she doesn’t do a good enough job because Scout is scowling up at her and she makes a jerky movement as if to sit up. Sniper applies a bit of pressure, pins her down while she flips the bra up and licks across her breast in a broad stroke that has the scout’s hips tilting toward her. The glare is gone, hidden under flickering eyelids edged with pale lashes. She leans down and kisses her, hard, licking at unresisting lips and pressing Scout’s exposed breasts between them. Her hands travel all over, pinching, groping, caressing the smooth skin of Scout’s hips, her abdomen, tangling in her hair and pulling away again to explore elsewhere. Scout is squirming beneath her, her hands tensing and relaxing in turn on Sniper’s hips.   
Sniper nuzzles Scout’s chest, warm breath puffing against the firm breasts. Scout shifts, pulls on Sniper’s head meaningfully. She takes the hint, squeezing the small breasts gently, running her hands over them until she can feel the nipples harden against her palms. She lowers her head, runs her tongue across them again, covering as much of the breast as she can with the heat of her mouth. Her tongue flicks against a hard nipple, and Scout moans a breathy little sigh and her hips rise up against Sniper’s. Small hands have moved to her back, are cautiously exploring and caressing Sniper’s sides. 

Sniper pulls back and Scout resists, trying to follow her up until Sniper pushes the bra and shirt up with purpose. Then the scout is all too eager, wiggling helpfully to discard of the unwanted clothes. They land on the floorboards with a soft sound, but neither of them notices. Scout collapses back onto the sheets and Sniper pauses a moment to admire the way the moonlight silvers the pale chest and gleams over saliva slicked breasts before recapturing that pink mouth.

The heat between them is building and sweat is starting to bead on Sniper’s skin. Her shirt is sticking uncomfortably. She needs to feel Scout against her, skin to skin. The clothes are irritating, a barrier. The sniper pulls back from the scout and shrugs out of her vest. She undoes the buttons on her shirt quickly, resisting the urge to rip the buttons off in her haste; she doesn’t want to explain to Soldier why she needs a replacement shirt to be ordered this soon after the last cargo shipment or deal with the engineer’s giggles if she goes to the resident seamstress/handywoman to fix it. The shirt is tossed aside, and as an afterthought she kicks off her boots as well, and added to the growing pile on the floor.

The scout is staring at her exposed chest in awe, wide blue eyes fixed on the swell of her breasts. Fingers reach out the trace the scar curving around the arc of her left breast until their trail is halted by the material of her bra. Sniper allows her eyes to close and leans into the gentle touch as the scout’s other hand reaches around behind her back for the clasp. She fumbles with it for a moment before letting out a small sound of annoyance and ceasing her stroking of sniper’s breast long enough for the other hand to join in undoing the clasp. Sniper slips the bra straps over her shoulders and tosses it aside carelessly. Both of the Scout’s hands are on her breasts now, tracing over their fullness, and the rough material of Scout’s still wrapped hands contrasted with the heat of her bare fingers is sending pleasure shooting through her. The brush of the wraps over the hard nub of a nipple sends a sharp aching jolt straight to her groin and Sniper lunges forward with a growl, pinning the surprised Scout who yelps before being silenced with her mouth.

This time the scout is an active, although inexperienced and sloppy, participant. Her tongue is quick to join Sniper’s and they work their mouths and bodies together in a pulsating rhythm. The Scout’s hips are undulating against her and only Sniper’s experienced control prevents her from allowing herself to rut back. Instead she works a thigh in between the scout’s and presses forward ever so slightly. The Scout gasps into their kiss and Sniper forces her tongue into the Scout’s mouth and strokes the inside of her mouth with urgent need. The Scout’s thrusts against her thigh are getting violent enough that the old cot’s springs are creaking with each motion. She withdraws from the scout’s mouth and presses her lips to the shell of her ear, reveling in the twitch she gets as she flicks her tongue there, then slides her mouth down until she’s grazing her teeth down the column of her pale throat. The sniper’s hands settle on the Scout’s small breasts. She squeezes once, and then flicks the hardened pink nub with a fingernail as she simultaneously noses the chain of her dog tags aside and bites down on the junction of Scout’s collarbone and throat. The scout’s body positively jolts beneath her and a curse flies out of her mouth but she doesn’t object, if anything she tries to wedge herself closer to the body above her. There’ll be a bruise in the morning but Scout is too far gone to do anything but moan appreciatively and scrape her short fingernails up and down the sniper’s bare back in desperate patterns. Sniper nips the sore spot again before soothing the burn with her tongue. It’s risky, leaving a mark when there’s a huge chance the scout will hate her come tomorrow, but if everything falls apart in the morning light, then at least she’ll have one thing to remind her the brash scout really was hers, if only for a night, and not another fantasy. 

The usual calm level-headedness that her teammates have come to rely on has fled her lust frenzied brain like itty bitty baby enemies in the path of their resident heavy. The only thoughts she finds herself capable of thinking are ‘naked-more-now;’ and apparently the scout agrees because her hands are desperately trying to unbutton her own shorts and paw open Sniper’s at the same time. Sniper bats her hands away impatiently and pops open the button on Scout’s shorts. Scout’s hands are clutching at her arms in encouragement as she yanks the shorts halfway down her thighs to reveal matching Red Sox panties. She rubs her fingers along the outside of her underwear, and Christ, she can feel how wet she is through the thin fabric. Scout’s hips are moving encouragingly against her hand and Sniper leans down to slick their mouths together again as she rubs the scout gently through the fabric. Scout’s hands have been running along her thighs, squeezing the round of her ass, busily stroking anywhere and everywhere except where Sniper’s most aching so it has her moaning into the kiss when one of those small hands hesitantly brushes across her groin. Sniper breaks the kiss and jolts upright, leaving the scout stunned and breathless. Sniper raises herself up on her knees, unfastens her pants as quickly as possible and violently shoves her pants down her legs and kicks them off. No need to worry about underwear; she isn’t wearing any. Scout is reaching for her, and she allows their bodies to come together once again. 

Scout is making small mewling sounds into their kisses. Sniper pulls her mouth away, tongues gently at her collar bone and gives one of her breasts another flick as she slides down Scout’s body. Scout arches against her and claws at Sniper’s skin with a whimper. The sniper trails her tongue lower in smooth, lingering swipes, down past the belly button to the top of the triangle of blonde curls between the scout’s legs. The scout’s legs twitch and Sniper brings her hands to either side of her thighs and holds the younger girl’s legs together with a gentle but firm force, keeping her thighs together and flat before her. The sniper can feel the tremors in the Scout’s captive thighs but she stops trying to push her legs apart and allows herself to be held still. 

“That’s a love.” She growls, lowering a brief kiss to the mound of curls before moving on to slathering her thighs with her tongue’s attention. 

The scout’s compliance allows her to stroke her hands down the curve of her inner thighs until her fingers are just shy of brushing against her need and then slowly retreating. The more she teases and caresses the scout’s thighs, the more the scout’s control breaks down. She’s gasping and mewling nonstop now, as noisy in bed as she is on the battlefield, and squirming uncontrollably on her sheets. Sniper can feel the scout’s thighs straining against her hands, desperate to spread wide and guide her partner to her aching need. Scout’s fingers push impatiently at her head and Sniper’s lips curl into a smirk even as she continues lightly tracing circles with her tongue on Scout’s inner thigh. 

“Frick’n, haah, just do it. Gawd, Snipes-” Scout whines in between sharp intakes of breath, her fingers clenching and unclenching in Sniper’s hair in time with her heaves.   
Sniper nips sharply at the seam of her inner thigh and her pelvic mound and is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. At this point the blonde’s thighs are trembling with need and the sniper strokes her tongue across her skin one last time before releasing the scout’s legs and allowing them to unresistingly spread open before her. She settles herself between the splayed legs and lets the insistent wrapped hands guide her head down. The sniper buries her nose in those damp curls and inhales deeply before flicking her tongue out to finally taste the younger girl. Scout cries out and goes rigid at the first probing touch of the saliva slick digit on her labia. Sniper spreads her lips wide and encases her wet pussy with the warmth of her mouth and tongue, lavishing attention on the whole of her sensitive areas. The Scout is moaning and huffing needy little breathes and the sniper hums appreciatively between her thighs as she hungrily devours her. Each swipe of her tongue fills Sniper’s mouth with Scout’s taste and she craves those hot delicious juices like she’s never craved anything in her life.   
It’s not enough, she needs more; the sniper roughly grasps the Scout’s calves and jerks her legs up and over her shoulders with a growl. The momentary whine of surprised protest is drowned out by a long moan as the new angle allows the Sniper’s mouth to envelop her more fully in the slick heat of her lips and mouth. She sucks gently at the Scout’s entrance before pulling back up and away to slick her tongue teasingly over her clit and back down to her entrance. The Scout’s hips are thrusting shallowly against the pressure of her hands with each slow, agonizing flick. The sniper pulls back from her entrance long enough to give the lips of her pussy a slow, languid suck that has the Scout panting before she swirls her tongue around the Scout’s entrance one more time and thrusts it inside. Sniper fucks her as deep as she can go with her tongue, tasting the wet heat and reveling in the sharp pull of the fingers tangled in her hair. The worn rubber band of her hair tie finally snaps under the pressure and sets her sweat slicked hair free to frame her face in tangled bands and slide along the Scout’s thighs as she works her mouth against that delicious moist heat. 

The sniper pulls away and lets the Scout’s legs drop from her shoulders as she slides her body up the Scout’s until she can reach that open and heaving mouth and cover it with her own. The Scout greedily sucks at the sniper’s tongue, tasting herself with a desperation that has Sniper moaning into the kiss. She pulls herself away with effort and licks lightly at the smear of Scout’s wetness across that cheeky mouth as she slides her hand between their bodies and slicks her fingers between the scout’s legs. Her wet fingers leave a glistening trail up her body until she offers them to the Scout’s swollen lips, which swiftly wrap around the digits with pleasure. Scout sucks on the offered fingers with noisy enthusiasm while Sniper strokes across her breasts with her free hand and drops soft tender kisses across the expanse of her flushed face. 

One more kiss, then Sniper slides down between her thighs one last time, fingers massaging her swollen labia gently and tongue flicking insistently against her clit. Scout’s breath is coming in ragged puffs now, her thighs shivering around her head. She’s close. Sniper keeps up the rhythm, lick after lick, fingers working in gentle rubbing circles against her, adjusting to the gentle thrust of Scout’s hips against her mouth but not faltering. Scout’s gasping out words of encouragement but Sniper doesn’t need to be told, she can feel Scout’s need building, can taste it on her tongue. And suddenly Scout is reaching for her hands and Sniper takes them in her own, sticky with Scout’s juices, and entwines their fingers, tongue still stroking her throbbing clit. And then Scout’s thighs shudder violently and tense around Sniper as she comes with a gasp and a drawn out mewl of pleasure. Sniper gives her one last lick, another, and then hands are disentangling with her own and pushing her head away from the sensitive flesh. Sniper relents with sigh, drapes herself along the sheets beside the panting scout and feels her own lust drain from her as sense returns. 

A sudden coldness comes over her that has little to do with the chill desert air leaking into the room.

Scout is perfectly still apart from the rise and fall of her chest. One pale arm has snaked over her eyes, hiding everything but the disturbingly flat line of her mouth. It sends a sharp jolt of pain in her chest; like that time a sticky bomb blew out half of a doorway and the shrapnel got lodged in her throat but so much worse because this time it’s her heart that’s been pierced and she can’t breathe and a terrible feeling of wrongness strikes her down to her core. Sniper hesitates, almost reaches out for the suddenly fragile form lying naked before her, but curls her fingers back before she can bridge the distance and slowly slides herself onto her knees. 

An overwhelming need to hold the girl is spreading inside her. Sniper doubts it would be welcome. She doubts her company will be welcome ever again, now that the momentary moment of lust has passed. 

It hurts more than any backstab she’s ever experienced. Compared to the brief hot flash of a well placed knife between her ribs, over in an instant, this pressure in her chest is all consuming and constricting ache. This isn’t a gaping wound that the medigun or even a quick walk between life and death through the respawn system can cure. It isn’t what she’d expected. It isn’t what she’d wanted. By not thinking, by not using her bloody head for once in her life, she’d chased away the only thing her battle hardened heart had grown to cherish. And for what, one mistake of an encounter that will be as memorable for her pain as her pleasure, always the good interlaced with the bad.

‘Roight. Ya knew it was a bloody stupid idea,’ She chides herself, and clearly the desert air is particularly dry tonight because her eyes are burning.

Her bare feet meet the worn wooden floor without a sound, despite the heaviness of her limbs. 

A pressure on her wrist stops her before she can take that difficult first step. 

“Scout?”

The scout’s face is turned away from her, but her hand is clutching Sniper’s wrist. Heart in her throat, the sniper allows herself to be awkwardly tugged back onto the edge of the bed.  
She feels the need to apologize, to explain, but she can’t find the words. To tell the scout that she loves her, wants to hold her forever and never let go, would be cheap now. Even if they would be the truest words she’d ever said. She makes an effort anyway. 

“Gremlin, I-“ Her voices cracks but it’s overridden by the scout.

“Stay.” 

It’s muffled and it’s demanding but it’s sincere and it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard.

 

END.


End file.
